


Love is in the Air

by ThingsGetBetter



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 20:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18431924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThingsGetBetter/pseuds/ThingsGetBetter
Summary: The Warchief of the Horde is too cool for Valentines Day.Just a short little drabble while I struggle with my next chapter and the curse of writers block. Frivolous crap- don't take it too seriously xD





	Love is in the Air

Love was in the air in Ogrimmar. Banners hung from wrought iron spikes, trinkets, flowers and hearts intricately decorated the otherwise utilitarian features of the city and the air was rich with the scent of overpriced baked goods as vendors vied onlookers to bring a delicious gift home for their loved ones.

 

What a puerile little celebration, Sylvanas mused, stepping over a wad of scattered fliers all advertising desperate bachelors. She paused to read one and scoffed at the cheesy caption; _I give good hugs, I also give good zugs-_ followed by an image of an orc sporting a shit-eating grin underneath. She was aware it was in good fun but still, pathetic- the lot of it.

 

What made it worse was she was expecting correspondence from several of her stationed spies and she had no idea how to find them under the mess of letters delivered to her post box. It was days like this she regretted insisting that she read her own post, other than have them scanned for dangerous spells or poisons, she had strict rules that the written words were for nobody else’s eyes but her own. She reached the mailbox and pulled the lid back; sensing her signature, the runes glowed and the space instantly overflowed with an obscene amount of letters.

 

“ _Belore”_ she snapped aloud and motioned for one of her rangers, hiding in the shadows to assist her- “help me carry these back to my quarters, looks like I have an evening sorting through this absolute garbage in the hope of getting my reports.” She really ought to have a system; this was a terrible waste of time. The dark ranger, Anya smirked slightly and assisted her warchief in gathering armfuls of letters.

 

“Are you sure you don’t find it the least bit entertaining?” Anya’s smirk got wider as she began to sift through them, noticing how someone had even addressed her as _Super Sexy Banshee_ on the envelope at the front.

 

“Not in the slightest- perhaps I should impose a law that bans people from sending letters anonymously on such a day, that way people wouldn’t have the gall to send such trivial filth.”

 

“That’s not how the holiday works, though I imagine it wouldn’t stop all of them even if it were enforced.” Anya levelled.

 

“True, but I’d almost be impressed reading letters of those who are brave enough to put a name to their disgrace.” Sylvanas reached the doors of the hold and with a flourish of her cloak stepped inside. At least here in the safety of her quarters the halls and rooms were blissfully decoration-free; the soothing tones of deep red and purple welcomed her and had she sported a living body she would have sank back into her desk chair with a relieved sigh.

 

She motioned to Anya to bring them over and with a delicate flick of her wrist a knife appeared in her hand where she neatly sliced an envelope with a satisfying _snick._ Without looking up, Sylvanas held up her hand as the ranger turned to go.

 

“No, no- you are to stay here and help me sort these- I need this task to be done quickly for I have important field reports amongst all this junk.”

 

The ranger tried not to smile in anticipation of being able to read what was normally forbidden to her- talk about being in the right place at the right time, she’d been about to switch shifts as well. She perched on the edge of the desk as Sylvanas pushed a haphazard pile in her direction.

 

“Start with these.”

 

“Of course, Warchief.”

 

The worked in relative silence, Sylvanas working through them methodically with a bored expression on her face while Anya cringed, giggled and grimaced at the various types of letters she recited in her mind.

 

“There’s no need to read them in their entirety, we will be here all night if you do- the post we are looking for should be stamped at the top with a similar looking seal” Sylvanas lifted her ring for the ranger to see and she nodded in confirmation.

 

“Alright but listen to this one for a second; _Roses are red, you are undead, if I ask you nicely, will you give me hea…”_

“Enough.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Anya was beginning to regret this task. While a few were unique and even funny, most of them were either cringe-worthy declarations of love in the gutterspeak scrawl of the forsaken or unkind and even downright vulgar slurs mostly in orcish from those less enthusiastic with her leadership. She was beginning to see why Sylvanas wanted anonymity abolished- some of the things written here could warrant execution if said out loud.

 

“Woah careful with this one.” Anya tilted the letter and noticed a slight shimmering of what could only be a cloaking spell. “That’s some impressive spellwork I must say- for it to get through customs, maybe I should have this taken in to be checked, it could be dangerous.”

 

Almost as if in response to her discovery, the spell warped and twisted, the horde-red envelope and orcish scrawl peeled back like that of a fine paper being burnt away to reveal something entirely different underneath. The envelope was a rich green, sealed with gold wax and the simple stamp of an anchor.

 

“Well I’ll be,” Anya sounded impressed, curiosity winning over caution as she sliced at the letter and carefully unfolded it, “The writing is Thalassian but you can tell it’s not likely written by an elf but somebody who’s right handed, the ink on the first sentence is smudged as though they are unused to writing right-to-left, it’s fixed with magic but if you look closely you can see.” Anya mused while tracing the dried ink carefully with her fingertips. “Good grasp of the language too but very much textbook, clearly a scholar has written this rather than a native speaker, the quality of this paper is remarkable, almost as though it were Alliance…hey!”

 

In a blur of movement the letter was snatched from her hands and Sylvanas was back in her chair, eyes bright as embers, scanning the contents furiously before waving a hand dismissively.

 

“Thank you, that is all- you may go.”

 

“I didn’t get to finish reading it.” Anya sulked but obeyed the order, frowning at the strange behavior- eyes brimming with a million questions that were silenced by a glare.

 

Once her ranger was well out of range- footsteps no longer detected by her sensitive hearing- Sylvanas leant back in her chair and began to read. In traditional fashion, the letter was signed off anonymously but she couldn’t help the small smile, then the chuckle that burst from her lips as she unconsciously held the letter to her chest, pressing it against her still heart.

 

“Oh you silly little mage.”


End file.
